Sunday, September 09, 2007

Miserable Fall Sundays

I somehow forget how much I hate Fall Sundays during the Winter, Spring, and Summer. It slips my mind what a wreck I become on Sunday.

It starts at 7:00 AM when Toddler Supercomputer wakes me up. This usually isn't too much of a problem, except I naturally drink on Saturday nights. Not to excess, but I usually stay up for a while watching movies or something. Either way, 7:00 AM is too early on Sunday.

But it's not that.

It continues at 9:00 with This Week With George Stephonopolis followed by Meet the Press. Today they had John Kerry on George. That's enough to make me want to crack open one of my leftover Dos Equis from last night. (note: the picture is actual size)

But it's not that.

I have to prepare for work and it's always hanging over my head. The next week starts playing in my head. Grading papers. Planning lessons. Trying to remember what we did in each class. Stressing out already about what lies ahead.

But it's not that.... okay. It's sorta that.

But no, the reason I hate Fall Sundays is the same reasons football fans love them: the NFL consumes you.

So shouldn't I be excited? Shouldn't I be "ready for some football" after several months of free and unencumbered Sundays?

I should, but I'm not. I've described it as an "abusive relationship" and I think I'll stick with that. Actually I said that in reference to being a Browns fan, but it's apropos for the NFL in general.

The NFL ambushes you for eleven straight hours starting at 11 AM pre-game stuff so we can watch a black moderator fake laugh with three white ex-players fake laugh.


And then we've got the noon games, the 3:00 PM games, and then Football Night in America which is Adam's favorite titled for a television program at 6:00 followed by the game that runs until at least 10:00. All the while we're bombarded with John Mellencamp teaming up with Chevy to remind us exactly whose country this is while hawking a truck.

What the fuck just happened to my Sunday??!

I've been sitting here for 11 hours wasting my life away, following stupid scores and a stupid fantasy team and my stupid pick'em league with my stupid family?!

Well, yes.

And before you start the whole, "just turn the TV off and go for a walk or something!" card, you simply don't get the predicament I'm in. It's like being a recovering alcoholic and working in a liquor store, except you can't quit because you really need the money: you're just flat screwed.

So yes, I hate Fall Sundays for the same reason I love them. And this week we have the dynamic match-up of this:



versus this:



(P.S. For those keeping count, this is the mother of all rivalry weeks. Not only does Adam's and my favorite teams go against each other - he likes the gay-steel mill team - but also our storied fantasy teams go against each other. In related news I put Addy's most recent diaper in his mailbox.)

(Update: The Browns season is about 5 minutes old and they're losing 0-10. I think they've been mathematically eliminated from the playoffs already.)

4 comments:

Ash said...

Romeo must go! Romeo must go! T-shirts to that effect come mid-season would really make up for the complete boredom I imagine.

Don't worry, they'll bounce back. My Skins once again proved they're just a little bit better than a pretty terrible young, inexperienced NFL team with a new head coach. You know it's rough when your hero's last name is Suisham. (or something like that).

Charlie Frye said...

Just turn the TV off and go for a walk or something.

gk said...

After about 15 minutes of watching you via what has to be illegal video streaming, I did turn it off. It was that bad.

Has a QB ever gone from opening day starter to waived in 48 hours? Stay tuned.....

Adam said...

This might be your best post ever.

An abusive relationsip indeed.

It was a good sunday for me this time around. But next week it could go all wrong. The Steelers will probably be reminded that in week 1 they played the Browns (not the Patriots) and Stradlebuck might remind me that its fantasy football - which means its all a crapshoot.

Why do we torture ourselves? That's a stupid question. There's no stopping.

I think at the end of every football season I promise myself to quit fantasy football and stop caring about the steelers. That promise always works out real well.